Laundry Day
by DebC75
Summary: Hoshi returns an errant article of clothing (Shockwave2 spoilers)
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: First of all, kudos to Mara and Lindsay for the wonderful beta reading job. And thank you for whomever posted http://www.effingpot.com/slang.html to the MHE list. It came in handy. ;-)   
  
"Laundry Day"  
  
It was a plain, blue, standard issue Starfleet shirt. There were many others just like it on board the Enterprise, and indeed, several in Hoshi's closet alone. But this was not her shirt. For one thing, 'REED' was stenciled just inside the collar. The last time Hoshi checked, she was definitely *not* Malcolm Reed.   
  
The laundry detail must have screwed up again. They were always getting things mixed up. The last time, one of her brassieres wound up in Phlox's laundry bag. The doctor had been "fascinated" by it and when she'd gone to retrieve it, had inquired if she might demonstrate how it was worn. Hoshi'd been mortified, and had she not known Phlox's curiosity about all human cultural aspects, she might have been offended. Ah, well. She'd just have to place another complaint with the laundry detail supervisor.   
  
She was halfway to the comm panel when she realized it hadn't been Laundry's mistake. It *was* Malcolm's shirt, but it had also been in her laundry bag when she'd sent her clothes down to be cleaned. Of course, *that* had been Laundry's fault, too, actually. The day before her fateful excursion into the ducts, she'd been "regretfully informed" that they'd lost her laundry bag altogether. Misplaced, they'd called it. Therefore, when she lost her only clean shirt falling through the duct and into Malcolm's quarters, she'd had absolutely nothing on underneath it.   
  
Heat burned in her cheeks as she remembered standing there, arms folded over her chest, as the door slid open to reveal a very shocked Malcolm.   
  
Hoshi couldn't remember exactly why she hadn't returned the shirt yet. She'd been busy, she supposed. Might as well do it now, she thought with, a sigh that suggested more than just a full schedule had held her back.  
  
++++++  
  
Hoshi could hear a raised voice coming from the other side of the door. It sounded like Malcolm was arguing with someone. Maybe this wasn't the best time, after all, she thought, hesitating. She turned to leave, but--remembering how it she'd taken to return the shirt in the first place--decided against it and pressed the button to let him know she was there.  
  
She heard him acknowledge her presence with an irritated "come in" and she entered to find him pacing in front of the comm panel. An all-too-familiar voice was trying to placate him from the receiving end of his rant.   
  
"No, I most certainly will *not* calm down! This is the third time this month alone. I demand that you find my--" he turned suddenly, facing Hoshi, and when he did, the anger faded from his face. "Never mind, it seems to have found its own way home." He ended the transmission abruptly, staring at Hoshi silently as his face slowly turned red.   
  
She held the shirt out to him timidly, and he reached for it. Their fingers touched and both of them averted their eyes out of reflex.   
  
"I had forgotten where this shirt got off to," Malcolm said, wincing as though he'd just realized the slightly sexual play on his words. The last time he'd seen the shirt, it'd been when he gave it to a half-naked Hoshi. It wasn't the sort of thing either them would forget anytime time soon.  
  
Hoshi blushed as well. "It's my fault, really. I kept forgetting to bring it back." Putting it off, really. To avoid something awkward--exactly like this.   
  
"No--" Malcolm gulped as he busied himself by returning the shirt to a drawer. "No harm done."  
  
"Well, you *did* just ream out Ensign Lowery," Hoshi pointed out.   
  
"Do you meant to tell me he didn't it deserve it, at least a little? They bodge things down there all the time."   
  
"True."  
  
"The last time, I got a batch of Commander Tucker's unmentionables. The man has cowboys on his pajamas!"  
  
This brought a smile to Hoshi's face, which turned into a fit of bubbly laughter. "I got someone's 'Day of the Week' underwear once."  
  
"Day of the Week?" Malcolm queried.   
  
"They're... women's underwear with... the names of the days of the week on them," Hoshi explained.   
  
"Dare I ask whose they were?" Hoshi hesitated, and then leaned towards him, whispering in his ear like a conspirator. "No!" Malcolm was incredulous.   
  
"I swear!" She promised, and they both began to laugh.   
  
"Of course, I'll never look at her the same way again," Malcolm chortled. Suddenly, Hoshi found him looking at her very seriously, and instinctively, they both stepped back--away from each other. "I, ahhh... thanks," Malcolm said, seeming a bit flustered. "For bringing the shirt back."  
  
"Yeah... you're welcome." She turned towards the door, feeling it was time to flee before anything even more strange and awkward happened.   
  
"Hoshi!" His voice stopped her flight, however. "Wait a moment." She turned back.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I, ah, wanted to tell you... to say..." He looked like he was fighting to get the words out. "I thought that was quite brave... what you did to help save the captain."   
  
He sounded almost as if she'd made some great heroic effort that he was in awe of. "All I did was crawl through some vents." And fall half-naked from the ceiling. "It was nothing special."  
  
"No! It was!" Malcolm sounded adamant. "You really came through for us when no one else could. You could have said no, after all. I know you haven't always been comfortable with potentially dangerous situations. As I said, really quite brave."  
  
Hoshi shook her head. It was a compliment and one she hadn't expected from him, but also one she was sure she didn't deserve. Especially not from Malcolm Reed. He was the one who'd gone out and let the Suliban take him captive. He'd been beaten and had actually spent some time in sickbay because of it. Her conscience prompted her to correct him, but then she thought better of it. Malcolm didn't give compliments often. He was actually usually pretty reserved, and she had to admit, she liked seeing a more approachable side to him. Even if it meant accepting praise she wasn't sure she deserved.  
  
"Thank you," she said, starting to lower her eyes modestly.  
  
"Hoshi..." His voice was different--almost sensual in its sudden intimacy. She looked up and found oddly soft, tender expression on his usually stoic face. "I do mean that," he insisted gently.   
  
She believed him. "Thank you," she repeated, this time with much more genuine feeling. She ventured a shy smile, and he smiled back.  
  
"Have you had dinner yet?" he inquired. She shook her head. "Join me?"   
  
"Sure," she accepted with another smile, not so shy this time. "Just give me about an hour. I still have some laundry to put away."   
  
"An hour's fine. I'll meet you there? Or would you rather I stopped by your quarters?"  
  
"We could meet," Hoshi echoed. This felt vaguely like a--  
  
"Good, then it's a date." Malcolm was smiling as he walked with her to the door.   
  
"Right, um, see you soon," Hoshi said as the door slid closed, blocking him from her sight. A date. Well, that wasn't quite what she'd expected.   
  



	2. chapter 2

Part 2  
  
After Hoshi arrived back her quarters, the fact that Malcolm Reed had asked her on a date--even if it was just dinner in the mess hall--finally hit her. A date... she could have ignored that fact if he hadn't actually come out and called it one. She suddenly found herself fussing over what to wear. Should she go in uniform or her casual, off-duty clothes?   
  
By the time she decided on something casual and comfortable, she was twenty minutes late to meet him. He was waiting for her just outside the mess hall when she got there, an uneasy look on his face, as though he was starting to doubt she would show up.   
  
"Sorry, I'm late," she told him as she approached. She noticed he'd also changed out of his uniform. Aside from their one and only shore leave, she couldn't recall ever seeing him in casual clothes. Which wasn't surprising, Hoshi reasoned--Malcolm was one of the hardest working crewmembers she knew. He always seemed to be on duty, usually at his post, and rarely seemed to take a break.   
  
"Perfectly alright," he told her, smiling tentatively. "Shall we?" he asked, nodded towards the dining hall. Hoshi nodded, and they went inside.   
  
The mess hall was relatively deserted, which eased Hoshi's nerves considerably. Not that she was at all worried about being seen with him. She wasn't, but Malcolm always seemed like such a private person and just that fact alone would have drawn attention to them dining together.   
  
"I guess we missed the rush," he said, cutting into her thoughts with an oddly appropriate comment, as if he'd been thinking the same thing.   
  
"Yeah." She followed him to an empty table in the corner of the room.   
  
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Malcolm spoke up. "So..." he said in a momentous tone, as if saying the monosyllabic word was somehow important.   
  
"So..." Hoshi echoed. She smiled at him, hoping the gentle warmth would coax something else out of him.  
  
"You..." he looked awkward, but sounded sincere. "You look lovely this evening." She was wearing a simple cotton dress, pale peach in color. She'd left her hair down after failing to fix it any way she liked.   
  
"This old thing?" It was a clichéd response, but it elicited a more genuine smile from him. "Thank you," she said, accepting the compliment more honestly. "So do you. Well... not lovely but... " The linguistic fumbled over the right words until they both started to laugh. "You know what I mean," she said, stifling a giggle. He did look good, she thought, in the burgundy colored shirt. It deepened the color of his eyes, which she'd never really noticed before, she realized. They were intense and currently regarding her in rapt...   
  
Malcolm chuckled self-consciously, the sound of which broke into Hoshi's thoughts--thoughts she never would have imagined having about the solitary lieutenant. "I, ah, know what you mean," he echoed, the laughter on his lips erasing their earlier awkwardness.   
  
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all, Hoshi thought as she asked what he'd be doing right now if they weren't having dinner.   
  
"I'd probably be back in the Armory, or going over tomorrow's duty roster," he admitted.   
  
Hoshi winced. She'd known Malcolm took his work seriously, but she truly hoped he wasn't all work. "Please don't tell me that's what you do for fun."   
  
"I like to read, actually," he told her. "And I have a bit of taste for old Earth movies. Black and whites, 1930's and 1940's era."  
  
"Any favorites?" she asked, curious.   
  
"A few, actually. Bogart mostly. He's the only one who ever did Sam Spade justice."   
  
Now, why hadn't Hoshi seen that one coming--Sam Spade as a possible hero for the always brave, often tight-lipped armory officer.   
  
"What about Philip Marlowe or Rick Blaine?"  
  
"Also good roles for Bogie."  
  
Hoshi nodded. "He was good at playing the tough guy with the heart of gold."  
  
"Indeed he was." Malcolm looked thoughtful. "I don't suppose you'd care to... no I probably shouldn't ask. It might be... awkward."  
  
"As awkward as seeing me without a shirt?" Hoshi supplied.  
  
"No, I suppose you can't get much worse than that, can you?" he conceded. His cheeks flushed slightly. "Not that I thought you're... I mean... what I... oh, bloody hell! You know what I mean."   
  
Hoshi smiled, blushing in her own right. Somehow, she was certain she did know what he was trying to get at. It was somewhat flattering, actually, that Malcolm was fumbling over his words. It meant that he'd thought about... that he saw her as more than just a co-worker. "I know what you mean," she assured him with another smile. "You... were going to ask me something?"  
  
"Yes. I thought perhaps you might like to... watch a movie with me? I just happen to have quite a few in my quarters."   
  
"Dinner and a movie?" Hoshi said, sampling the words as well as the thought behind them. Almost the perfect way to spend a real date. "I'd like that," she told him.   
  
++++++  
  
"Hoshi..."   
  
Malcolm was whispering. Why was Malcolm whispering? Hoshi opened her eyes, and found the armory officer staring thoughtfully down at her. Down?   
  
"You fell asleep," he continued to whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes, and then stopping to stare at his own hand as if shocked by the closeness of the action.   
  
She had fallen asleep, she realized, and somewhere between then and the closing credits of "The Big Sleep," she'd managed to snuggle up against her host. Her head rested in his lap as if using it for a pillow.   
  
"What... what time is it?" she asked, sitting up suddenly. She inched away from him, but only just a little. Lying in his arms felt inexplicably comfortable... enjoyable.   
  
"About twenty-two hundred, I should say," Malcolm answered. He looked slightly worried by that. She wondered if he feared someone would catch her leaving his room so late at night.  
  
"I guess I should go, then. I have to be on the bridge in six hours."  
  
"Me, too, actually," he admitted. They both rose, and Hoshi headed for the door. Malcolm followed her. "I'll... I'll see you there, then?"  
  
"Yeah," Hoshi lowered her eyes, staring awkwardly at her feet. She wanted to say something to him, thank him for the wonderful evening, but waking up in arms... technically in his bed--since they'd been sitting on his bed when the movie started--made things a little weird the more she thought about them.   
  
She looked up again, eyes meeting his. When she did, another wisp of hair fell in front of her face. He reached out to her, brushing the hair away with such gentleness. The look on his face was tender and contemplative, and for a moment, Hoshi was certain he was going to kiss her. "Well, good-bye then," Malcolm said, the tone in his voice suggesting that he might have been thinking about it, even if he hadn't done it.   
  
"See you tomorrow," she said, following his casual lead. As she turned towards the door, however, Malcolm suddenly seized her hand in his, squeezing it gently.   
  
"Tomorrow," he whispered, almost as if it were a promise.   
  
  
  



End file.
